


Laughter Lines

by Rinner



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Comedy, Gen, Happy, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:10:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinner/pseuds/Rinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coffeeshop/slight University AU where ((hopefully)) no one dies. Marco works as a barrista in a local coffeeshop, and Jean, a student from the university, takes an interest from him, but can't quite get the guts to do anything about it. Fortunately--or maybe not--his friends decide to interfere. May add more characters/warning may go up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Local Color

Northern Trost wasn’t known for commercial shops or big-name brands. Instead of studio lights, homemade lanterns lit up the streets, casting funny shadows on the chairs and tables of little coffee shops. Independent bookstores and tea houses commanded the street, with welcoming, warm clothing stores full of handmade shawls and jewelry keeping the space between them safe. It was an area bursting with independence and determination, and the occasional smell of musty vintage clothing. It was a place that Jean Kirschtein had come to enjoy.  
The indie atmosphere in the place had driven Jean away at first, but after a few more curious ventures, he’d come to enjoy it. Quirky little shopkeepers invited him in for strange herbal teas, enticing bookshops full of literary oddities and first-editions caught his attention for sometimes hours on end, and once or twice, hipsters in flannel shirts and scuffed Oxfords offered him a smoke of what he assumed wasn’t a cigarette. One particular coffee shop, however, had caught his attention. “Nirvana in the North.” Referring to its locale, the café had a wide selection, all homemade, and all delicious; not to mention, it wasn’t too bad of a walk from the nearest Trost University bus stop. But it wasn’t the food or open atmosphere that kept Jean coming back.  
It was Thursday, sometime in May, when he had first wandered in, seeking some shelter from the cold. As it was a weekday, when everyone else was at their dayjobs, the shop only had one person in it, a barista, maybe sixteen or seventeen. Jean had been attracted to men once or twice—he’d always assumed that it was a little fluke in his sexuality, a matter which he’d never addressed—but never like this. The man behind the counter was slender, but with a muscular tone. The way he smiled, Jean was left expecting a pair of white wings to unfold from underneath his uniform. Black hair was swept carefully out of his face, which was dotted by a spray of freckles, like heaven had left its mark on him when he fell. He was beautiful, and Jean had never been so absolutely floored by the physique of another person in his entire life. After a few awkward glances and multiple return visits, Jean had finally learned his name. Marco. Marco Bodt.  
Since then, the name hadn’t left his head, and neither did the face it belonged to. jean found himself caught in the wildest, most fleeting of fantasies, all centered around Marco. He highly doubted he was serious about any of them, but they were nice to have. And it was those same thoughts that led him back to Nirvana in the North yet again, one crisp day in September.  
The bell above the door chimed jovially as Jean walked in, and he was instantly hit by an intoxicating smell of coffee and baking bread. Marco was behind the counter as usual. Jean had taken careful notes to memorize what he assumed was Marco’s work schedule, and though he tried to make his visits sparse, they were always when Marco was working. He walked slowly up to the counter, running one hand through silver and brown hair nervously.  
“Hello,” Marco said, flashing Jean one of his signature saintly smiles. “What can I get for you?”  
“Um, same as always, I suppose,” he said, biting his lip a bit at the sight of Marco’s smile. “A regular coffee, two creams.”  
“Sure thing,” Marco said politely. “That’ll be $1.83.”  
Jean shyly handed two dollar bills, and Marco handed him the change. “You’re… Jean, right?” he said, still keeping the angelic smile played across his face. Jean’s stomach did a triple backflip, and he nodded mutely. “You come in here pretty often,” he continued, not noticing Jean’s sudden embarrassment. “I think I heard you say your name once, when you picked up a phonecall… I’ve almost memorized your order by now!”  
His smile widened further, and Jean thought he might faint. However, he managed to shakily slip the change back into his pocket, still gaping at the other boy.  
“Y…Yeah,” he said. “Jean. J-Jean Kirschtein. I’m uh… I’m from Eastern Trost.”  
“Eastern Trost?” Marco said, frowning slightly. “That’s pretty far. What are you doing all the way up here?”  
Jean bit his lip; “I just like it here, I guess. It’s… calm. Not so busy all the time.”  
“Yeah, I know what you mean…” he said, handing Jean his coffee. “It’s nice to get away. Enjoy!”  
“Thanks—“ Jean said shortly, then walked quickly out of the shop. Although he’d been Nirvana many times, he’d never spoken more than a few words to Marco. The closest he’d ever come to a full conversation with him was when Jean—possibly intentionally— left his phone on the table, and Marco had run out to give it to him. Even then, he’d only exchanged a quick word of thanks before going on about his business.  
Jean clutched the cup of coffee a little tighter in his hand. Flirting certainly wasn’t his strong suit, and he didn’t need Reiner to tell him that when it came to romance, he was thick as a board. He sighed, setting off back down the sidewalk. Maybe one of his roommates would have a suggestion.


	2. Pizza and Plotting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is mysteriously nice to Jean.

   The warm interior of his dorm room was a welcoming change from the brisk weather in Trost. Jean slung his jacket over the crook out of his elbow and unlocked the door. Sounds of talking and laughter floated out, and Jean realized that his noisy roommates must have guests. Connie Springer and Reiner Braun were two other freshman at the university, whom Jean supposed one could call his friends. Reiner was an alright guy, for the most part, except when he and his “friend,” Bertholdt Hoover, got up to their “nightly activities.” Jean suppressed the memories as often as he could—not that Jean minded if his friends wanted to get some extra action in between classes, but neither of them were known for being particularly quiet in bed. As for Connie, he was an ass, but a few months of living with him had worn away on Jean, and now, they could at least stand each other.

   Waiting inside the room were his two roommates, amongst a group of about five or six others. With Connie, was Sasha Braus, another freshman known for her ravenous and unstoppable hunger. Mikasa Ackerman and Armin Arlert were also there; Armin was a good guy, as far as Jean was concerned. Mikasa was beautiful. Jean would never admit it, but he’d had a bit of a crush on her since he’d first seen her back in August. Unfortunately, with Mikasa, came Eren Jaegar, who was sitting on the bed, scowling. He met Jean’s eye, and the two of them scowled at each other. Connie was an ass, sure, but he had nothing on Jaegar.

   _Angry little twat…_ Jean thought, then turned his attention back to Reiner, who was sitting on the other side of the room with Betholdt, who was sweating nervously, and Annie Leonhardt. Jean didn’t know Annie that well, but he knew she scared him, and that was enough.

   “Kirschtein,” Eren said coldly.

   “Jaegar,” Jean replied, and Mikasa elbowed Eren sharply in the ribs.

   “Don’t start,” she hissed, and Eren frowned, turning quickly into a glare when he saw Jean smirking at him.

   “Hey, Jean,” Armin said, trying to lighten the mood. “How’re you?”  
   “Damn spiffy, thanks Armin,” he said, still glaring at Eren. “Yourself?”  
   “Not too bad, thanks.”  
   “Hey, horseface!”  
   Jean grimaced; Reiner was grinning—or maybe he was scowling, it was sometimes hard to tell the difference—from across the room. Annie looked at him expressionlessly, and Bertholdt waved nervously.

   “Good to see you too, Reiner,” Jean said flatly, inclining his head to Annie and Bert.

   “Where’ve you been?!” he demanded. “You missed the pizza! Connie and I both tried to call you, but you weren’t answering.”

   “Oh,” Jean said quickly. “I just went out for some coffee in the Northern district. Nothing big.”  
   Reiner frowned suspiciously. “Jeez, Jean, you sure drink a lot of coffee. Where’s that place you go all the time? Paradise up North?”  
   “Nirvana in the North,” he said shortly. “Anyway, I—“  
   “Nirvana in the North?” Annie interrupted, and Jean stopped mid-sentence. She turned slowly to look at Bertholdt. “Doesn’t Ymir work there on weekends?”  
   “Yeah, I think she does…” Bertholdt said thoughtfully. “Why?”  
   “No reason…” Annie said, then pulled out her cellphone. “Would you mind if I invited her and Christa up?”  
   “Not at all,” Reiner said. “More the merrier.”

   Annie began typing furiously at her phone, and Jean frowned. _Who’s she texting?_ He thought. _Oh god… don’t tell me she knows Marco…_

Before he could ask, a loud Jaeger-esque battle cry echoed from the other side of the room, and Jean started. Eren was fistpumping the air as Connie groaned, holding his head in his hands; the Xbox was on, and it looked as though Eren had just wiped the floor with Connie in a round of Mario Kart.

   “Alright losers!” he yelled. “Who wants to be next?”  
   Jean scowled at him. “You sure you ready to lose just yet, Jaegar? Don’t wanna bask in that glory for a few more seconds?”  
   “Please,” Eren scoffed. “Like you even have a chance.”  
   Jean laughed. “Prepare your thumbs, scumbag.”  
   “Bring it!”  
   Jean sat down next to him and grabbed a controller, and they were immediately locked in fierce digital combat. A few minutes went by where Jean lost track of everything but the game, and suddenly, he was interrupted by a knock at the door, which almost threw him off track.

   Reiner stood up and opened the door, revealing a tall woman with dark hair and freckles, and a tiny blonde next to her. The dark-haired woman looked faintly familiar to Jean, but he was to wrapped up in his game to notice.

   “Hey, Ymir,” Reiner said heartily. “Hey Christa.”  
   “Hello!” the little blonde said sweetly, and the dark-haired woman inclined her head.

   “How’re you doin’, Reiner?” the taller woman, Ymir, said with a smirk.

   Reiner laughed. “Fine, fine. How’re you two?”  
   “We’re doing pretty well,” Ymir said, putting one hand on the blonde’s head and pulling her closer. “Quite a party you got going.”  
   “It’s always a party in Dorm Rose,” Reiner said with a chuckle. “You guys want some pizza?”  
   “Damn straight I do,” Ymir said eagerly, and Jean remembered something.

   “Hey!” he protested and Reiner looked over his shoulder. “You said there wasn’t any pizza left!”  
   Reiner smirked. “Did I?”  
   “You ass.”  
   He laughed, and Ymir studied him for a moment. Meanwhile, Eren beat him by half a second to the end of the track, and celebrated with a victory control that was probably heard by half the dorm. Jean punched him in the side and Eren yelped; he was about to swing in for another hit, when Ymir’s voice interrupted him:  
   “Hey! Don’t I know you?”  
   Jean twisted around, narrowly missing a punch from  Eren.

   “I dunno,” he said, annoyed. “Do you?”  
   “Yeah, I do!” Ymir exclaimed. “You’re at the café I work at all the time, Nirvana in the North! You’re the little shit that’s always flirting with Marco!”  
   Jean choked violently, and the entire rest of the room stopped dead. Even Eren abandoned his various attempts at revenge, and set down the controller to stare at him. A violent flush began to creep through Jean’s cheeks, and he felt himself beginning to borderline on “firetruck.”

   “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he snapped. “Who even are you, anyway?! I’ve never seen you before in my life!”  
   That was a flat-out lie. After she’d called him out, Jean had immediately recognized Ymir from the coffee shop. She often worked the same hours as Marco, so it was no wonder she had seen a couple of times. Jean looked nervously around the room, where everyone was still staring at him.

   “Of course you do!” Ymir snapped back. “I work with Marco all the time! Don’t think I haven’t seen you coming in every other day, smiling like an idiot and ogling him while you think he’s not looking! I’m not _stupid,_ you know!”  
   Jean opened and closed his mouth soundlessly, and from beside Ymir, Reiner began to chuckle. “That true, Jean? Ya got a a crush?”  
   “I—I—she— _none_ of you know what you’re talking about!” he said. “What do you know, anyway, Reiner?!”  
   “About romance? Or how to get a boyfriend?” he asked, putting a hand on Bertholdt’s ass, who began to sweat profusely. “Because I know a hell of a lot more about both of those than you.”

   “Reiner—“ Bert squeaked nervously, and Reiner winked at him.

   “Just teasin’ you, baby,” he said, and Bertholdt’s sweating intensified.  
   “You two are gross,” Jean retorted. “Go take it in the other room. And Reiner, I wouldn’t take relationship advice from you if you turned into the next Rasputin, and I certainly won’t take it now.”  
   “Aw come on,” Reiner said. “I’ve done a lot better than you have.”  
   “He’s not wrong…” Ymir said offhandedly, and Annie nodded in agreement.  
   “Believe it or not, Jean, Reiner gives pretty good advice,” Christa said, smiling slightly, and leaned into Ymir’s side. “He helped Ymir and I get together.”  
   Ymir ran her fingers through Christa’s hair with a nod. “Yeah. Not to mention, Marco and I are both in Dorm Maria, so I think I can help you out with that also.”  
   “Oh hell no!” Jean exclaimed. “Not you too!”  
   “That’s his way of saying, ‘yes,’” Connie interrupted, not even looking up from his phone.

   “Shut up Connie—“

   “Alright then!” Reiner boomed, drowning out Jean’s protests altogether. “Ymir and I will handle this one. Connie, Jaegar, you’re on backup!”  
   “Oh HELL no!”  
   “—and Christa, you’re communications master!” Christa gave a little salute, and Jean noticed Ymir seemed to melt a little. “Marco won’t even know what hit him!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone was wondering, Eren did succeed in punching Jean.  
> ((laughs casually at shitty dead Marco jokes))

**Author's Note:**

> I won't let Marco die, I won't do it.


End file.
